Bombay diaries

What started out as a very scary and hectic little trip, came out so well that it deserves a post.

I was to go to Bombay (i like that name) for a Schengen visa interview. The meeting was at 8 am and I had to reach even earlier. So I chose a train at midnight, it would reach Bombay Central at 6 sharp, enough time I say. This was the first time I was travelling alone on a train. While I love trains, I was unsure about how this would feel. But the minute i got on it, I knew. The feeling seeped in like I always knew. Trains and the way they move have always fascinated me. They put me to sleep faster than anything I have tried in life. They were all men in my compartment but that hardly mattered, I dont feel that instinctive fear that a girl in my country should by now. Not yet aleast. Very soon, JK Rowling put me to sleep.

The alarm woke me up at 5.30, when I brushed my teeth, combed my hair and even changed my shirt inside the train loo! Another first! All this was necessary because I had to head straight to the consulate office and am sure the Germans wouldnt want it any other way. Once there, Bombay's early morning welcomed me with fallen flowers, some on their way to the ground, a lot of healthy dogs and a few marathi manas sitting on the pavement of the visa office already. Obviously, I chatted them up. They were very interested to know what, why and where of my trip. Not just that, when I asked them how to go about the city, they suggested a few places and said 'Bombay to bekar hai, kantaal gaye hai yaha reh reh ke'. I wondered what they thought of Ahmedabad. Ahem.
By 7.30 am, the whole place filled up and I soon found out my early morning friends were not there to visit europe but to help others do so. They were agents who ensured your visa requirements were correctly submitted. In my head, I realised the people who have expertise on these matters may never see outside of their cities ever. That is where the 'Mumbai is boring' line had come from.

My interview was over as soon as it started and I have a feeling they just want to look at applicants? Decide if I get the visa on the basis of my looks? I seriously do not know. I was just asked where in Europe was I planning to go to. That’s it.

Out on the streets by 8.30 am, I had a whole daytime to look forward to. And no, his cousin sister's house was not appealing just as yet. I walked to Nariman point’s sea line and sat there for a while. Health freaks jogged, people walked their large, imported breed dogs, some youngsters left home early to meet up their lovers before college started. That typical wind that blows near the sea blew, making me feel as free and as happy as ever. Water is therapeutic for me, it makes me a better person.

Then I called a friend living there, found out Cafe Leopold was close by and headed there. It was warm and inviting, the old and high ceilings, the typical Bombay cafe chairs and I took the table right next to the freshly baked pastries. Yes, I sat there, opened my novel again, ordered a cold coffee, chicken hotdog and fries and sat comfortably for an hour or two, I dont know. Reading, sipping that bitter coffee and no rush to be anywhere. As a Kolkata bangali would say, 'ultimate lagchilo'.

I then decided to visit Siddhivinayak, a very endearing orange coloured Ganesha who sits snugly at a place called Dadar. Spoke to the newspaper vendors and the shopkeepers who were just setting shop about my options in transport. I chose to ride a local train. As all the crowds travelled to the opposite direction in the mornings, I found my train, especially my ladies’ coach to be charmingly empty. Women read, sew, chatted and I made a girl remove her Ipod shuffle to talk to me instead. From there, I took a shared taxi to the temple in Prabhadevi. Inside the taxi, a college couple got up who kept calling each other idiot throughout their conversation. The guy was protective, asking her about her Saturday plans and the girl kept asking him to ditch a family wedding to meet her. I saw them in the big line for giving puja in the temple as well. She had wrapped her chunni over her head and he was hoarding her so that no one could brush against her. A cosy love story right there, I thought and smiled.

After speaking into the mice’s ears, I was content. From here, to anywhere I thought. Went to Bandra and fell in love with the summer collection of clothes and shoes I saw there. Bought a lot of tops, a jumpsuit, a pair of chappals and funky pyajamas in a little less than an hour. With no one telling me what is in fashion and what I ought to buy, this was the first ever truly freeing shopping session ever. I knew one thing, if Greece, Venice and Rome was happening, then I was going to have a super wardrobe. If not, I was still going to have a super wardrobe.

His cousin was now calling incessantly, wanting to know if I was lost. With the pressure of saving face and doing in-law duties, I headed to her place. Caught glimpse of a cool looking pub called Three wise men, and stopped for a pint of beer. The first afternoon pub experience in ages for me. Importantly, the first one ever by myself. It was truly liberating to be sitting in an Indian pub without anyone staring, wondering or trying to take advantage of the situation.

Knowing I had done enough, I sat in an auto and reached her place. Typically, had a lunch consisting of aamras and roti and khaman and bid them bye after an hour.
I don’t know what it is but Bombay recharges my cells and makes me a happy spirit, something I cant quite put my finger to. It releases shackles which Delhi always put. It makes me uninhibited, something Ahmedabad will never mange to do. Eight hours in this city and it can easily be called the best mini vacation I ever gave myself.

PS-I did get the visa later that evening.

A single moment of absolute beauty

She had never seen somebody so colourful. The girl, in her twenties, wore a peach coloured shirt that was merging with the colour of her skin and cobalt blue trousers, dark and heavy in comparison to the light blue sky up above. Her sandals were also peach coloured or maybe orange, but what stood out the most was her red, flaming hair. Straight, the hair flew about in the extremely windy hill of Aeropagus, and she sat and gaped at this beauty wide eyed.



How colourfully gorgeous. The peach was her skin, the red was her hair. Athens could be seen in her entirety from above this hill. Known for religious rites and senate meetings from back then, Aeropagus hill was named after Aero, the god of war in greek mythology. Today, couples, both local and tourists, helped each other up to the top and sat, feeling the wind on their face. Pigeons moved about nearby, pecking at insects and forming a part of the crowd.

She was alone but not really. After a good three hours inside the most beautiful ruins one can ever lay their eyes on, she was now perched at this hill, looking at the Acropolis in the opposite, much higher hill. What history, what mythology, the head was full of starry details and knowledge. For instance, Aphrodite, the goddess of love and beauty had been with most gods but married Hephaestus, the god of fire, who was, according to lore, the ugliest. Also that his temple had been burnt down. Irony in all, she found. Taking out her little white notebook and the pencil from her hotel room, she started to scribble the name of all that she had seen today. In her heart, she knew, a story was forming, something that needed to be spilled out. But again and again, her eyes turned to the girl with the red hair.

In reality, she compared this girl with Aphrodite. Just as beautiful, with just as handsome a man as Adonis. They were a couple she was sure, but would they last? Would they end up in ‘holy matrimony’? Would she start cooking, taking care of the house? Would she have to throw away those beautifully fitted blue trousers because they wouldn’t fit her anymore? Would that mind blowing red hair soon be tied in a careless bun as she ran around the house, chasing her kids? Would this beauty lead to that reality?

The truth was, she smiled, that every beauty turned to that reality. This moment was all there was to it. This perfect moment of beauty and the wind on your young, pretty face.

windy waffle love-2

She asked for a waffle with chocolate sauce and cream, and he said he wouldn’t like fruits on it. She knew he enjoyed eating bananas so she ordered for some banana slices on the now divine waffle. When she was given the piece of heaven, she fed him a spoon to which he refused saying he hated bananas during the night and she put it without thinking about him. Well. Here she was, sacrificing on kiwis and strawberries and choosing bananas just because he liked them and this is what she got. That was just too bad.

The argument got bitter and accusations were thrown which would look hilarious on a good day. Making jokes on how he ate bananas in fixed hours of the day and hated them on others got out of hand and the date was abruptly over. From fruits, they moved on to the nagging issues of life like place, culture etc and there was no way of redeeming the date thereafter. They both decided to walk instead of taking a cab just to release the pressure. Without acknowledging each other’s presence, they kept walking. Soon, she got tired and took a cab and asked him to get in, to which he behaved like a child and said, ‘You called it. You get in.’ she was pissed and asked the cabbie to go ahead. Once at Kabatas, the tram station, she missed him dearly. For the next twenty minutes, he was nowhere to be seen and the tram station fellow kept coming to her and asking her which tram was she waiting for. It was close to 12 and tears were stinging her eyes. A cab stopped in front of her and an Indian boy came out of it, took one look at her and asked her if she wanted to be dropped somewhere. She refused and turned the other way.

The tram guy closed the system and told her the last ride was over and said a sympathetic bye to her. Suddenly, from afar, she saw him walking towards her, looking tired and completely put out. Rushing to him, she asked if he had walked all the way. He nodded, called a cab and they got in. she cried silently while he looked the other way, asking the cabbie for extra bills. Once inside the hotel, she saw the same Indian guy from that night, who had one look at both their faces, and gave her a sympathetic smile. Forget sympathy, she could do with some vodka right now. Inside the room, the travel and the heart ache gave way to sleep soon enough.

Early morning, she woke up, way calmer than the previous night. He had already left for his meetings, so she went to the washroom, sat on the pot, and started to think. How could they manage a fight in the most beautiful city in the world? How could they not keep their short tempers in check for one little exotic week? How is it love if they cant trust each other and do things that hurt, simply on an impulse? And most importantly, how were they supposed to get past this and enjoy two more days of the vacation? She turned her head towards the wash basin and was caught by surprise. There was a cardboard sheet, torn from the box of khaakras she had got from home. The sheet had a pen drawing of a round face with hair and 3 tears each coming from both his eyes. It said SORRY underneath that. It was hard to believe and too cute to not melt. Clutching it close to her heart, she laughed and then cried at the madness of it all.

He had woken up, felt bad and had taken the pains to tear a piece out of a box to make that hideous drawing and write what he couldn’t manage to say the entire night. There are certain things about love, the most important one being that it isn’t extraordinary. It is simple, right there in front of you. In little things, it can trigger. You don’t have to be a talker, you can be the shy kinds and still have your place under the sun. a vacation doesn’t have to be perfect, it can find perfection in your fights and then, in your Sorrys’. There is no sure shot way to tell what keeps you happy. A banana slice in your waffle can spoil your evening and a little boy cartoon saying sorry can make things alrite again. It is that ordinarily extraordinary. Believe you me.

windy waffle love-1

It was yet another super windy day at Istanbul. But that had not deterred her from exploring and loving. Being more sensitive to cold than most people she knew, she struggled with the cold winds that thrashed the only part they could get, the face. Nonetheless, she braved it the whole day and had a dekko at the famous Topkapi palace, the best archaeology museum in the world and the creepy Basilica cistern, and by this time, it was raining too. Coming to Istanbul on a December week would not be great travel advice, but seeing the city when no one else has a beauty of its own.

Tired from the excursion, she warmed her feet by the heater and watched some more random language music on Viva TV and waited for him to get back. Tonight’s plan was to head to Ortakoy, a north western pretty village which boasts of a lovely pier. He came back and together they took the tram to Kabatas and then a bus to Ortakoy.

The village was scenic to say the least. Walking, not hand in hand but laughing and talking about the simplest things in life, the two lovers enjoyed each second of the windy night. She squealed at the sight of Gloria Jeans’ coffee shop but had a hookah from the local shop instead. He fell in love with the sea side coffee shop and pledged to come back, no matter how full he was after dinner.

A heady meal later, they walked towards the sea side coffee parlour but now they weren’t very sure about that last cup of tea. Maybe they couldn’t have it after all that food they had. His heart won over his head finally and they did sit right next to the splashing waves and had a typically strong Turkish cup of tea in the surreal coffee shop. She was ecstatic because yet another cat of the city had warmed and cosied up to her, much to the frustration of the burqa clad women and their men right behind their table who had tried to win its affection for a while now. There was a Jack Black look alike who preferred to stare at her rather than in his coffee cup. They made jokes in hindi and tons of photos and crazy winds later, she decided to go to the lane that was selling her favourite, waffles.

That was the beginning of the typical end to a happy date between these two.